


Five Visions Morgana Had That Changed Camelot

by hariboo



Category: Merlin BBC
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her visions have always felt so real that sometimes the line blurs too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Visions Morgana Had That Changed Camelot

_"Do you still stand by my choice, Emrys?" She asks once. _

A dream, vision, or memory, she cannot remember.

Her visions have always felt so real that sometimes the line blurs too much.

 

 

I.

The vision creeps up on her like a snake in the grass. It coils around her sleeping mind and _squeezes_. 

The castle is bathed in light, the rays from the sun so bright the windows shine under their light. The image does not last long as fires start in the windows, flames licking up walls. She feels the fire all around her and suddenly she's in the throne room but the fire still burns on either side of her. In the middle of the room, Uther sits with Arthur on his right but they don't seem to notice the fires or her. The smoke chokes the warnings she tries to give them as she rushes towards them, the heat and pain hindering her steps. Reaching for Arthur, she tries to grab hold of his arm and shake him, trying to get him away from the fires, but nothing happens. She yells, but he can't hear her. She pushes, but he does not move.  

And just as the fires overwhelm her they stop. 

It's still only Uther and Arthur in the throne room and Arthur is speaking, but she cannot hear him, yet the anger in his eyes is unmistakable. His father, on the other hand shows no emotion, only stares at his son, his familiar grimace set. Arthur yells something and Uther replies. Morgana cannot hear it, but she _knows_ the answer was voiced with a cold fury.  

Uther walks over to the window over looking the courtyard and Morgana and Arthur follow. What she sees out the window is the closest thing to a nightmare she can fathom. The courtyard has a pyre and she can see the bones still tied to the wood, she cannot smell them, but she can _feel_ them.

The pain is so intense that she has to look away and in doing so everything shifts and she's in Arthur's quarters.  

Gwen is there, standing next to Arthur as he sits on his chair. He is half bent, his hands covering his face, his ring—his mother's ring—is gleaming in the firelight. She and Gwen move at the same time but Arthur only reacts to Gwen's hand on his shoulder. Gwen looks like she has been crying for days and Morgana aches for her friend. Gwen's words have always calmed her and she can only hope she does the same for Arthur. He looks up at Gwen and scoffs, standing. He moves across the room, stalking the length of it more than once until Gwen speaks again. He stops and Morgana concentrates, hoping to hear _anything_.

She hears nothing, but sees everything.  

Arthur opens the chest at the foot of his bed and digs through it, pulling out Merlin's magic book. She gasps, realising that he must have taken it from Gaius' room and goes to touch it, but Gwen's hands are there first again. She takes the book gingerly from Arthur, shaking her head and sets it back in the chest.  

It is a deep and painful knowledge but Morgana knows that book will never daylight again. Morgana keeps her eyes on the chest until she feels everything blur out of focus.  

As her vision sharpens, she becomes aware that she's in the cave. Right along with the inhabitant she is not supposed to know exists. She glares as the Dragon laughs. She had always believed the tales to be true, but the reality—her dreams have never lied to her—shocks her to her core. His laughter is low and dangerous; her hackles rise on instinct. She can her him, she realises, and understands these visions are his doing. Bastard.  

_Do you see now, how it will be if you allow Uther to continue his reign. Come to me, child of dreams. Come to me and fulfil your destiny. Rid the kingdom of his oppression and take your place as Queen._ 

The offer is meant to tempt her, to twist her loyalty, but she sees the truth behind it all too easily. To take this offer is to bend to the Dragon's will. To become a pawn in his game. Suddenly, it's all clear. The pyre, the bodies, her and Merlin, discovered and burnt. A possible glimpse of a dark future meant to frighten her. Turn her to his side. She twists her lips at him, hating him in this moment more than she has hated anything before, and wishes this wasn't a dream so she could kill him.

"If I ever become Queen it would not be at your command _or_ wish, but my own." 

The Dragon sneers, his eyes flashing. "You've spent too much time with our young Merlin. Foolish thoughts about justice and righteousness. You could have been great, the two of you, your magic lighting the kingdom in glory."

Morgana smirks at the anger that is rising her. He thinks her sentimental and weak; he does not understand her at all. The Dragon had thought to control them with the promise of magic and freedom. She laughs for they will find it without him. Camelot will find without him too.

"Our magic will bring light and hope to the kingdom, just not under your command, you selfish pet. Now leave my dreams." 

At her words the Dragon expels her from the dream, breathing fire at her.

 

-

 

_She wakes with a scream trapped in her throat at the feeling of the flames surrounding her once more. She wakes, full of knowledge, and runs to Gaius' chambers, throwing the door open in her haste. Merlin and Gaius turn to her in shock as her words cut the air between them._

"The dragon has invaded my dreams. The time for falsehoods is over."

They both look ill at ease at the admission of her secret and theirs. Before today none of them have spoken to the fact that Morgana's powers have been steadily increasing. They have not spoken about Morgana's powers at all.

She cannot bring herself to care about their_ hurt feelings. The suspicions she's had about her powers have just been confirmed by the Dragon instead of those she had called friends._

 

 

II.

 

—the skin under her hand is covered in a light sheen of sweat and her fingers curl into it. Morgana slides into the dream in the middle it, overwhelming her with a strange tightness that is not at all unpleasant. Skin, skin, skin. Skin is all she can feel. Under her, over her, surrounding her. She can taste sweat on her lips, somehow understanding it's not _just_ hers.

Suddenly there's the feeling of lips on her collarbone and she gasps.

The gasps slides everything in focus and suddenly she's seeing too much.

She's aware of herself in a way she's never been before; her hips are shifting, pushing, and her hands are grasping onto broad shoulders. They drift up and bury themselves into familiar blonde hair. The recognition hits her with a wave of pleasure and her legs tighten around narrow hips of their own accord.

"Arthur," she gasps, but she cannot hear herself, she only feels the shape of his name on her lips. The way it forms and escapes into her dream. Arthur.

She's aware of how heavy her breath is coming in, but everything is silent to her ears. She feels Arthur mouth his way across her chest and up her neck, the roughness of his hand as they raise her hips higher, and then, _there_, at the shift of his hips, his lips mere breaths from hers while his eyes crowd her vision.

His names escapes soundlessly from her lips again and are soon they are covered by his in a deep kiss. Arthur's lips are warm and salty, the taste of sweat and something she can't describe overpowering her senses, driving her to deepen the kiss. Her hands curl tighter in his hair and she feels herself coming apart.

Light beings to blur at the edges and Morgana desperately tries to hold on to this vision despite knowing it's futile.

The dream fades out with one last roll of Arthur's hips against hers.

 

-

 

_She wakes up sweating and breathing heavily, the memory of Arthur's skin all too vivid in her mind. _

When Gwen enters her chambers a half hour later she is surprised to find Morgana still in bed. If she notices that Morgana is wearing a different shift than the one she had been wearing the night before she does not mention it. When she finds said shift on the pile of linens to be washed, finding it sweated through, she says nothing to her friend only nodding when Morgana asks her to get their horses ready.

After Gwen leaves, Morgana walks to her window. She can see Arthur down in the courtyard, Merlin two steps behind him, as usual. She freezes remembering all too well how real he felt under her.

She and Gwen spend the day outside the castle, well away from Arthur, his skin and his eyes.

 

 

III.

 

This time it is of Merlin.

The vision does not sneak upon her like it has done before. This time she feels it, opening its doors and enveloping her like an old friend. She steps through, _steps into it_, with confidence and studies it.

Merlin is standing in the middle of an island with fire, rain, and wind surrounding him.

His eyes are flashing gold, glinting like Arthur's crown does in the sun. He turns to her and holds out a hand like he sees her but she knows he does not. Not now, anyway. In the future he might be though, because something tells her that he is, seeing her. That when this vision of the future comes to fruition Merlin will be holding out his hand to her, asking her for something.

Morgana is not sure she will take it, but she feels her fingers itch in anticipation.

His lips are forming words she does not bother to listen to. Her dreams are always silent, still keeping mysteries from her. Regardless, she studies his lips.

The words they shape are familiar, even without hearing them, her body, her mind, her magic knows them.

_Avalon. _

With a gust of wind, she is transported, or Merlin is for he is no longer there. The Isle is shifting in time, things hidden becoming clear. She sees the doors to realm opening, for her.

-

 

_She wakes with a smile on her face. When Gwen enters she comments on her cheerful mood but Morgana does not elaborate on it. _

The day drags on as any normal day in Camelot does. Sewing is done, gossip is told, training is mandatory, but everything feels different to Morgana, somehow purer, sweeter. Gwen follows her for most of the morning, enjoying Morgana's mood, until her chores call her way. Merlin looks at her with a tilt of his head and flushes when she catches him, winking at him. His ears burn pink and he stutters when he hears avalon_ in his head in Morgana's smooth voice._

She hums the song of the Isle without noticing, its tune pumping through her veins.

Arthur teases her in the corridor due to her mercurial nature. She laughs brightly and surprises him. His lips taste sweeter than in her dream, but they are warm and soft under her kiss. His tunic is damp under her hands and she wonder if he knows about the magic that dries it and remains in its fibres. She pulls away, still smiling, which only grows wider at his flustered face. He's always been so easy to fluster, but today marks a change. Their time will come soon.

Behind him Merlin openly gapes.

Morgana turns towards the direction of her chambers, hair gleaming in the sunlight like a dark river. The click of her heels and her humming tune follows her.

 

 

IV.

 

A funeral. Uther.

Felled by a mortal enemy and not the magical ones he dedicated his life to ridding. She cannot see this enemy, but she can see the pain in Arthur's eyes at his father's cold body. She watches as he approaches the body and drops a gentle kiss on Uther's forehead.

The ache reflected in blue eyes is too much like the one she feels and looks away.

As usual, the scene shifts.

 

A table, round and sturdy.

 

A pungent copper smell and—-she coughs, blinks. A battleground.

Bodies litter the field and in the distance, on the hilltop, she sees a white horse. The figure is a shadow to her, but she sees the sun as the sun hits the circlet of a crown.

 

Arthur, at this throne, his crown gleaming and a bread heavy on his face. Standing in front of him and she cannot help but think how handsome he truly is. Strong and regal, with a lighter air than his father had. She has no doubt that his people love him. Morgana smiles.

He smiles back (to her or to whoever it is that he is seeing in her place, but it does not matter. She forgets how fond she is of his smile until she sees it.) and reaches out to her.

It's a surprise comes when she feels her hand raise at the touch of his. Blinking, she watches as Arthur takes their joined hands and kisses her knuckles, a smirk present on his feature.

Morgana feels flushed all over, stepping—

 

A table, round, sturdy, old.

 

Swords clashing—blood, battle, death—the Dragon laughing—Arthur—Lancelot—Gwen—Merlin—A goblet falling from Gwen's fingers—Arthur kissing her in a show of desperation and passion—cold blue eyes—Merlin striding towards the castle steps, blood on his robes and fury etched on his face.

 

Herself, dressed in white robes, smiling. Never has her own smile chilled her so.

 

Then she is at the Isle again. The light hitting the mist so gently it feels almost real. It feels like Arthur's fingers gliding on her skin. The influx of images have stopped and Morgana can breathe once again. She hears the soundless warning of the Isle.

 

-

 

_She wakes feeling more connected to herself than ever before. She rushes down to Gaius' chamber, throwing the doors opening, heading to Merlin's room without a word. _

"M-my lady," he questions, hastily finishing pulling his tunic over his wiry frame.

"Take me to the Isle, Merlin," she orders. "We have matters to attend to."

Merlin does not question her, only nods, rummaging through his things, taking out the book. "Arthur will have questions about this." He mentions, a knowing look coming into his eyes.

Morgana nods, reminded both of how well Merlin knows Arthur, and of Arthur's constant worry over their persons. "Do not worry about him, I will persuade him to lend you out to me for the day."

"I did not doubt it, my lady." He smirks.

 

At the Isle they open the book and the wind blows all around them.

 

-

 

She does not dream on the Isle. In all honesty, neither does she sleep.

 

-

 

_When they return, two days later, and after an excuse of bandits is concocted to cover their long absence, they join Arthur and Gwen in Arthur's chambers. _

They look at Merlin and Morgana curious and worried. Not a surprise, at all. Morgana just smiles and takes Gwen in her arms, kissing her dear friend's cheeks, assuring her all is well. Merlin grins and teases Arthur for being a worrywart and mother hen, earning himself a jab on the shoulder, but Arthur's relief is palpable.

Over Gwen's shoulder she locks eyes with Arthur.

Tonight will change everything.

 

-

 

She does not dream that night.

 

-

 

_His hips move steadily against hers, his hand brushing her matted hair from her face. She nips at his lips, pushing her chest against his. He lifts her slightly, one hand slipping between their bodies and his thumb makes it way to the bundle of nerves that will threaten to unmake her. _

It does. Her scream is muffled by his lips and her body feels like it's floating.

Sleep comes later, but easily.

 

 

V.

 

A coronation. Arthur wearing a king's a crown and mantle.

She can see Merlin just behind the throne, smiling proud. She feels rather the same.

 

White bearded and old, Merlin stalks across a wood, his staff hitting the ground with every step he makes. It has to be the far future, Morgana muses, willing herself closer. At her movement Merlin turns towards her, as if he can see her, but she knows it's impossible. She is in a dream, a vision, and this Merlin does not yet exist.

Still. He turns, smiles, and gives a proper bow like he's finally learned what Arthur has been trying (in vain) to teach him. His lips move—not for the first time Morgana hates the silent nature of her visions—and without hearing she knows he speaks the Old Language.

She wants to desperately to speak to this Merlin, but when she tries everything is gone and the scene has changed.

 

She sees Gwen, Merlin, Arthur and herself. Older, all orphaned by this time (she senses) and powerful.

 

Then the Isle appears before her, calling them home.

 

-

 

She does not wake, she was not asleep.

Her visions have long given up their nightly realm, coming whenever they please. Morgana walks to her mirror, smiling as she touches its surface. It changes at the feel of her fingertips, her reflection disappearing and an image of Camelot taking its place.

Laying her hand flat against the cool surface, she sends her feelings out.

Safe. Protected, she feels come back to her.

With a wave of her hand she turns the image to take a peek at Gwen, asleep, her belly swollen with child, Lancelot resting at her side. Smiling, she allows the image to dissolve to one of Merlin, hunched over his books, also appearing to be asleep at his work table, ink spilling onto the floor. He works too hard, she thinks, especially when Arthur is away. Such a change from earlier years.

As if he hears her thoughts turn to him, Arthur snores loudly from their bed. Facing her lover, her husband, her King, Morgana steps away from the mirror, letting the images dissolve back to the reflection, and makes her way to the bed.

She settles at his side, brushing errant hairs from his forehead, still damp from the night before. The isle has become an escape for him, a place to rest, to gather this thoughts and feelings without the pressures of the court. And, of course, to spend with her. It's always too short of a time, in Morgana's opinion, but they made their choices years ago. Camelot is safer this way. Its Lady looking over it from her Isle. Its Queen watching over her King and kingdom.

It had not been an easy choice and most had not understood why their queen chose to live on an Isle so far from her people. Many still think she believes herself too important, so far above them—an ice queen—but they do not understand. She can admit that in the beginning the guilt ate at her and she would split her time more evenly between her two homes, but they've all learnt about sacrifice, and this is hers.

Arthur rolls over in bed, his hand falling over her thigh, squeezing gently. She laughs softly, leaning down to kiss him awake. Arthur has always been horrible at feigning sleep.

"Morning, love." She settles besides him, "I've checked on the castle and all is well."

He hums in acknowledgment, moving closer to her, "To tell you the truth I wasn't think about it at all." He pulls her closer, his hands working their way under the shift, warm and strong, like always.

Rolling her eyes, Moragna breathes a smile into his mouth, shifting over him. The morning disappears in a flurry of kisses and skin.

 

-

 

_It's her most important vision, she can feel it. Its weight and presence strong in her mind, enveloping her like a blanket. She hears the Old Language and turns to where it originates from. In a sea of green leaves, she spots Merlin coming out of the foliage like a ghost. He looks neither young or old, just like Merlin. Ageless._

"I can hear you," she says, amused.

"I know." He smiles. "Are you ready?"

"For what," she replies, moving towards him, taking the offered arm.

"For life, my lady. For life." He laughs that merry laugh of his and they begin their walk. "He waits for you, you know? Annoyingly so." Quirking his eyebrow, he frowns, "Well not that he's aware of it, but yes, annoyingly so."

Morgana rests her head on her dear friend's shoulder, "He was always the impatient sort."

"That he was." Merlin agrees.

"So, do you still stand by my choice, Emrys?"

He groans, "I hate it when you call me that, but yes, I do. Of course, I do. I just wish it wasn't so difficult for you."

"We all make choices. They are not always easy ones." She shrugs, "We managed rather well regardless, did we not?"

"We did," he waves his hand and the dock appears in the mist. As they step onto the boat that heads back to where they came from, Morgana isn't sure she's in a vision anymore.

No matter, through the mist, Arthur is waiting.


End file.
